


Refuge at Risk

by interstellarstrut



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, few ocs out of necessity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarstrut/pseuds/interstellarstrut
Summary: A trip to Ladyworld is derailed by a call for help. Our four crusaders are led to the Zone, an unstable pocket dimension plagued with boredom. Can they protect the Zone and banish boredom, or will the dastardly haters prevail?basically a fic for the origin of the name 'groove crusaders.' written for the TWRP big bang.





	1. Chapter 1

“Doc, are we there yet?”

“ _No_ , Commander, you’ll know when we get there.”

Doctor Sung bites back some choice words, words that can only enter his mind when Commander Meouch asks where they are over fifteen times. The digital map shows him that they’re over halfway into their journey, maybe two or three hours remaining — not that he’s going to tell Meouch that.

“I don’t see why you insist on a trip to Ladyworld every year. It’s pretty and all, but they’re not interested. We could go to a beach on Earth or something.” Meouch lies down even further in his seat, which hadn’t seemed possible before then. “It’d probably be the same travel time, but at least we wouldn’t have to dust off this old girl each trip.”

“Karen isn’t _old_. She runs fine.” Sung pats the steering wheel to drive his point home. “And it’s not just for the beach. I have friends there, even if _you_ don’t.”

“Ooh, harsh. You named your ship Karen?”

“She looks like a Karen, no?”

“Well, no. She doesn’t look like anything. Why did you name your _ship_?”

“Same reason I named Fuckthrust. She’s very important to me.” He throws a glance over his shoulder at Meouch. “Show the things you appreciate some care and they’ll be around longer. Like talking to plants, or something. Or playing guitar to them, in Lord Phobos’s case.”

The lord in question raises his head, only catching his name in his half-asleep state.

“Yeah, and that’s still weird. Naming instruments, fine. Anything else? Nah.”

Phobos looks between the two, hoping for clarification, but Meouch just shakes his head. He rolls with what he had picked up on and signs, _Naming your instrument “Gwendolyn” is a little strange, Commander._

“Is not! It’s the perfect name for her. You don’t name your guitars, so you can’t talk about that.” Meouch springs up and covers Phobos’s hands, effectively cutting off anything he was about to sign in response. “Nope, I said you can’t talk about it. Not qualified.”

“He’s got a point.”

Phobos shakes his hands free. _My unqualified opinion says you’re both in the minority with odd naming habits._

“And he admits he’s unqualified!”

“CAT. KINDLY SHUT YOUR TRAP BEFORE I SHUT IT FOR YOU.” Havve’s robotic voice startles everyone, fed up with the back and forth. Meouch glares at him, and Sung can sense a fight brewing.

“Come on, don’t rip each other’s heads off. We’ll be there soon enough, so…” An odd noise catches Sung’s attention, and he trails off as he tries to locate the source. Phobos reaches around him and turns up the radio; sure enough, static is pouring out of it.

_We haven’t been in range of anything for a while. Did we enter a station?_

“Shitty reception if we did. Maybe it’ll clear up—” A voice breaks through the static, cutting Sung short. Phobos turns the volume up again, and Meouch raises to a stand.

“...absolutely everywhere. I don’t know what caused it. The Zone’s never been like this before, not that I’ve seen. I never believed the stories about boredom ruining planets, but after this… I’d believe it. Fucking — whatever. If anyone hears this, on that tiny ass chance someone can, please help this place. It’s too important, and we can’t let…”

Static takes the place of the voice again. Sung frowns and leans back in his chair. “Out of reception again? ...Was that a serious call for help?”

“THEY SAID ‘THE ZONE.’ THE NAME IS ALMOST FAMILIAR. IS IT OUR PROBLEM?”

“If it’s a place overrun with boredom, then _yeah_ , it’s our problem. But… That’s a vague ass way to refer to somewhere.” Doctor Sung leans over his map, searching for a “zone” around them.

“If it’s the place I’m thinking of, you’re probably not going to find it on your map, Doc,” Meouch says.

“What, you know what they were talking about?” Sung doesn’t look up from his efforts.

“Uh, maybe. When we’d have expeditions, we’d spend any lulls in the mission in a place called ‘the Zone.’ I wanna say I recognize that voice, but I dunno who…”

“Is it a planet? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Not exactly. It’s a, uh, what’s the word… Pocket dimension. I guess. Unstable as fuck—”

_Why are people there if it’s unstable?_

“If they’re there, it’s more stable than anything else they have. The only others I ever saw there were stragglers or people on the run.”

“So that’s why they said it’s important? A hiding spot?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Sung pauses, then nods firmly. “We have to try to help, then. Especially since people rely on it.”

“My point was, it’s so unstable that it wouldn’t take much for boredom to uproot it. Who knows how long it’s been there?”

_If it’s the same zone, and if the issue is boredom._

“That’s a good point, Lord Phobos. The only way to find out is to go. How do we get there?” Sung asks.

“You have a tracker, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see it.”

Sung hands over his tracking device to Meouch, who squints at it intently and starts tapping something in.

“YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT THIS PLACE WILL NOT SHOW UP ON MAPS, BUT YOU CAN SIMPLY PLUG IT INTO A GPS AND FIND IT?” If Havve could laugh, he would.

“Well, it’s moving. You can’t nail down a place for it, so it’s not on maps. Here,” he hands the device back to Sung, “we should be on course with that.”

Sung moves back to his map and alters the course; Ladyworld trip has been delayed. The coordinates the tracking device gave him lead to an empty spot on his map, but he decides to put a little faith in Meouch and allow the ship to follow through.

_What are we rushing into? What do you even plan to do when we get there?_

“We may not know what we’re going into, but there’s really one thing we can do: perform! If we get there and there is no boredom, I’m sure the residents will appreciate a little groove. If there is, then… Maybe that can help.”

“Won’t know till we try. A few traveling musicians never hurt anything. For the most part.”

“Sure, get some more publicity and all. Something something… Good in the unexpected.” Sung flaps his hand dismissively. “Anything else you can tell us about this place?”

“Not really. It’s always changing, so there’s no telling what it’s like now. A good ol’ unreliable hideout—”

“DOCTOR, YOU’RE LEADING US INTO A BLACK HOLE.”

Havve’s words jolt everyone’s attention to the viewport. There is an area that appears to be devoid of stars, and it grows bigger the closer they get. Sung frantically reaches for the tracking device, which shows that they’re about to arrive at their destination.

“Commander—”

“It’s the entrance, I swear. If you’re gonna hide from something, hide in the most uninviting place you find.” Meouch reaches for his travel helmet. “It’s a bumpy ride, so hang tight.”

“WHY WOULD YOU SEE A BLACK HOLE AND THINK, ‘YES, THIS IS WHERE I WANT TO LIVE?’ YOU’RE MORE DELUSIONAL THAN I PREVIOUSLY BELIEVED.”

“Yeah, sure. Word of mouth and all.”

Sung slowly pulls his hand away from the controls. “If you’re leading us into an actual black hole, I’m kicking you out of the band.”

_I don’t think we’ll have a band by that point._

Nobody answers Phobos as the hole grows nearer; rather, nobody _wants_ to answer. The nose of the ship disappears first, and it feels as though it’s painfully slow for the rest to follow. An odd feeling overtakes them as the cabin finally surpasses the entrance; Sung’s head is unusually heavy, exceptionally weighted down by his helmet. His spine is folding in on itself, while his arms and legs are pushing outwards. He can’t quite see the others, just blurs and colors around him. The lights of the ship turn into strobe lights, burning brighter than he thought they could before shutting off completely over and over again. The darkness outside them starts to fall away, and one thought registers in his mind as he sees the hole open up:

_We need a new goddamn bassist._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for alcohol mentions in this chapter! the character Roz belongs to my lovely friend Annie. my partner for the TWBB did art of her as her contribution to the challenge, so i'll update this with a link to it once she posts it!

Doctor Sung feels like his hand is moving through syrup as he moves to enable the landing gear. The ground warps up to meet them, overtaking the sides of the hole they flung themselves into. Time speeds back up once his hand grasps the lever, compensating for the delay they encountered inside the wormhole. He pulls it down as quick as he can, and from his perspective at the viewport, the ground seems to bow under them to allow him time to properly land. A muffled _thunk_ confirms the touchdown.

He scans the scenery before moving. The viewport dulls everything outside, but even taking that into consideration, there isn’t much to see. The ground, sky, and everything in between are all the same flat gray color. Beyond the plain they landed on, there’s a semblance of a city. He leaves it at that and turns to face the three behind him. Lord Phobos is shaking his hands out and stretching, apparently trying to regain some sense of normality in his body. Commander Meouch’s discomfort is evident in his appearance; his mane is disheveled and his fur is standing on end. He tries to smooth everything back down with a grimace as he removes his helmet.

“Underestimated just how rough that entrance is.”

“Reassuring to hear!”

“THIS IS THE ZONE?” Havve pushes past Sung and looks out the viewport. “IT’S HIDEOUS.”

“You wouldn’t appreciate the view even if it were outstanding, Hogan. Let’s move.” Sung ensures that the landing gear is locked in and turns off the ship’s engine.

Phobos stops him near the door. _We’re going out now? Is that a good idea?_

“I don’t see why not. What else would we do?”

“I mean, it’s not dangerous. The air or anything. You probably shouldn’t take off your helmet, but we don’t need any gear.” Phobos pauses at Meouch’s words, shrugs, and steps back for Sung to open the door.

The view outside isn’t much better than the one from inside. The gray landscape is uglier than they thought. The ground is covered in sand and rocks, all the same color. There’s several other ships around them, and they seem to each be made by different craftsmen. They look a little worse for wear, scrapes and dings and dents abound.

“There really isn’t a limit on who comes here, is there? These ships don’t appear to be from the same area.” Sung wipes the dirt off of a bumper sticker on the ship closest to him, “‘Follow me to Vod!’ ...Guess this was made _before_ one of the suns exploded.”

“I told you, if they’re here, it’s probably better than any other option they have. I don’t know how word spreads, but anyone who needs a place to stay finds the Zone.”

“STOP DAWDLING, DOCTOR. WHATEVER THE MAIN ISSUE IS, LET’S FIND IT AND LEAVE.” Havve points to the buildings in the distance. “A FAIR PLACE TO BEGIN.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll learn more about these people from actually seeing them than from their spacecrafts, anyways.” Sung claps his hands together to knock the dirt off of his gloves, leading the others through the plain. “Commander, you said this place is always changing. What was it like last time you were here?”

“This spot was way more hilly. The city-ish place was still in tact, but it wasn’t this gray. More reds and golds.”

“Do you know what causes it to be unstable?”

“That’s your fuckin’ expertise, Doc. I just know it’s a pocket dimension.”

_Any guesses?_

“Well… It’s moving through dimensions, right? So maybe it changes based on what’s around it on the outside. Or even on the inside. I don’t know, but it’d be neat to learn!”

_I’m sure the people who reside here would also appreciate knowing. You could bring some sense of predictability to it._

Phobos’s words carry a sense of pride to him; he stands a bit taller and strides a bit further. “We’ll see.”

“If you can predict where this thing is going, you’ll be up for some galactic prize or some shit. It’s random, as far as I can tell. I’ve always used a tracker to find it.”

_That leaves a lot up to Lady Luck._

“IT DOESN’T SEEM TO BE FLOATING AROUND FOR THE BENEFIT OF PEOPLE. IT’S UP TO LADY LUCK THAT THIS PLACE HASN’T SELF-DESTRUCTED YET, IF IT’S TRULY THIS UNSTABLE.”

“Yeah, for sure. Guess that risk of weird disasters occurring is true for everywhere, though. There’s always some risk,” Meouch says.

The four fall quiet, kicking up dust behind them as they approach the heart of the Zone. As they get closer to the buildings, they can see how spread out they are. Most of them are single-story, but a few here and there tower above the rest. Meouch furrows his brow. “There’s no one out.”

“Is there supposed to be?” Sung is pulled out of his examinations and sees that, besides the four of them, the roads are indeed empty. He looks back up at the buildings, and even there, there’s no movement in the windows.

“I mean, no? There just always _was_.”

_How long has it been since you’ve been here? You know how quickly things can change._

“Yeah, sure, of course. ‘S been a long time, but it still seems weird. Everything about the Zone was always hustling.”

Doctor Sung frowns and turns his gaze down towards the ground. He watches the pebbles at his feet scatter, looking more serious than he has in a while. Phobos stops walking and waves a hand in front of his face to raise his attention.

_What’s on your mind?_

Havve and Meouch stop, too, and face them. Sung meets their gazes and gives a half-hearted grin. “Sorry. Just… thinking. And still getting over that wormhole entrance, what a fuckin’ _trip_.”

The others share a look that has become all too familiar over the years, and Havve shrugs, turns on his heel, and continues walking. As their walk resumes, Sung falls towards the back. Commander Meouch slows his pace and, without further questioning him, falls in beside him.

“I was thinking about that radio call. It would’ve been a pretty weak one, right? Since we came in and out of signal so quick?” asks Meouch.

“Probably, yes. The Zone wouldn’t really have a need for a radio station, would it?”

“No, and it doesn’t even have one, last I knew.”

_Personal radio._

Sung jerks his head up at Phobos’s words. “Of course! That’d explain the weak signal, too. With the diversity of the spacecrafts here, it wouldn’t surprise me if someone was walking around with their own radio. Someone in… A military, or something. A spy.”

“Or someone who wants to be prepared.”

“Spies are cool, though!”

_Commander, what all is here?_

“What, like spies, or…?”

Phobos rubs his head — rather, tries to, and rubs his visor instead. _No. You said there’s no radio station here. What do you know of that’s here?_

“Oh!” Meouch laughs. “Uh, not much. Lots of shelters, that’s what these bigger buildings are. A few stores, few bars. That’s pretty much it.”

“Bars?” A pep returns to Sung’s step for a moment. “If we’re here to _perform_ , what better place to?”

“Hmm… I guess so. Can’t be too hard to find one here. Whaddya want to do, just waltz in and ask if we can play a show?”

“Sure! Owner gets a fair cut, some business, and we get to see if any boredom is chased out. ...Of course, we’ll leave off that last part when we bring up our offer.”

“IF THEY SAY NO, WHAT ARE OUR CHANCES OF BEING SHIT OUT OF LUCK FOR ANY OTHER POSSIBLE VENUE HERE?”

“High. So we’ll hope for the best.”

“We hoped for the best in getting here through the commander’s word, and that worked out pretty well. We’ve got a 100% streak going, no sense in breaking it now!”

“100%, AS IN ONE OUT OF ONE.”

“That’s still 100%, Havve,” Sung says.

Phobos points to a sturdy-looking building off the road. It’s made out of stone and has several benches outside, and one holds a being with five exceptionally long arms (legs?), seemingly passed out. A sign hangs crookedly besides the door frame, simply reading “Supplies.”

_It’s the only place I’ve seen with a sign._

Doctor Sung shrugs. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

The door slides open to grant the four entrance when they approach it, and the inside looks like a drugstore. They can see over the short aisles, see the 15 eyes of the 4 people staring at them. Sung lets out a nervous laugh and a slight wave in greeting, then immerses himself in the nearby display of bandages. They stop staring at the intruders soon enough, and Meouch tugs Sung away from the rack. “They’re not gonna kill ya, bud, we need to figure out where we’re going.”

“That person has _seven eyes,_ Commander!” Sung whisper-yells, waving his arms like mad. “I know I’m not the person to be talking about number of eyes, but I was _understandably a little thrown off!”_

“Yeah, sure. Come on, pal.” Meouch struts to the front counter, where a short robot sits. Though they don’t have any visible eyes, he can feel their stare boring into him.

“You don’t have anything to buy.” Their voice grates on his ears, and he does his best not to flick them in annoyance.

“No, I don’t. We’re trying to find a bar around here. Can you tell us one?”

“Can I? Sure.”

They wait in anticipation, but the cashier says nothing else. Meouch’s ear flicks again, and he sighs. “...And?”

“Oh, you want me to actually tell you? You’re just being awfully rude, coming here without buying any of my wares and then demanding instructions.”

Phobos pushes his way beside Meouch. _Can you please tell us where a bar is? It’d mean very much._

“Why’s this numbskull waving his hands? If you’re not going to buy anything, get out.”

Phobos falters and drops his hands to his sides.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO INSULT HIM BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW SIGN LANGUAGE, YOU TRASH PIECE OF METAL. WHY IS THAT NOT HARDWIRED INTO YOUR SYSTEM?” Havve says, approaching the counter with more purpose than Sung cares for in the moment.

“Okay, okay, everyone back off.” Sung forcibly pulls Meouch and Phobos away from the counter, holding a hand out for Havve to wait. “I’m sorry. We’re all a little frazzled and… need a drink. Do we need to buy something for you in exchange for information? I _could_ use some more toilet paper.”

A red X flashes across the robot’s visor. “Fine, anything to get you out of here. The Rack is a block down, heading away from the entrance, on the right. Small but you’ll see the sign. Now beat it.”

“Thanks!” Sung ushers the others outside hurriedly, doing his best to avoid eye contact with any of the other shoppers.

_They weren’t the friendliest._

“Far from it. But we got the information we needed!”

“Quiet _down_ , will you?!” An agitated voice rises from the person on the bench. “I’m _lyin’_ here!”

Meouch mutters an apology and takes the lead, following the instructions provided by the robot.

It isn’t long until the establishment in question comes into view. It looks a little more rundown than the store, also made of stone. The sign is propped against a post, with “THE RACK” written on it in large, friendly letters. The door looks as though it’s barely hanging on its hinges, but opens fine with Meouch pushes it. The bar is near empty, save for a few patrons on the far end and the bartender, who looks up from the glass she was washing. A pixelated exclamation mark slides around her visor and she waves. “Hey, welcome! Can I get a drink going for you fellas?”

“Got any Jim Beam?” Meouch slides right into a seat.

“‘Fraid not. How about a Janx Spirit?”

“Fine with me.”

He motions for the others to sit as she turns to make his drink, and they hesitantly do. Unlike the store, the others in here don’t seem to be paying them any mind. The robot, too, is different from the other they met. She’s wearing a swing dress, carrying herself with a sense of joy. She sets Meouch’s drink on the counter and motions towards the others. “And for you?”

“I think we’re good, thank you. Can I, ah, ask your name?”

“Suit yourself! Name’s Roz. You lot don’t look familiar, are you just passing through?”

“Well, Roz, I’m Doctor Sung. We are passing through, but we, er…” Sung hesitates, rethinking his idea of jumping straight into things. “... _I_ was wondering how you keep business up in a place like this. Not as in like — you’re doing shitty, or something — wait, well —”

Roz laughs, cutting his downward spiral short. “No, I understand. Though that is quite the thing to stride in here and ask.”

“Right, right, sorry. Just, uh, curious, because I research these things.”

“Hmm? What things?”

“...Everything.”

“Are you a doctor of everything?”

“I suppose you could say that. Erm, could you please…?” He trails off, unsure of the right path to take. Thankfully, Roz interprets his question as a continuation of the first. A smiley face flashes across her visor, assumingly showing her amusement.

“Not extremely well, admittedly. This place goes through so many changes that only us robots can run the businesses; any other life wouldn’t last too long here. It’s fun seeing all of the different tales come through here, and you always find someone that’s worth talking to. So, I suppose this place stays up and running for its own sake; I’m the only worker, so it isn’t like I have to pay anyone else’s salary. ...Sales have been down lately, though. Frustrating. We may be going through a strange pocket or something, but,” she shrugs, “I haven’t seen many people going in nor out.”

“Low sales?” Meouch side-eyes Sung and takes a long sip of his drink. “Maybe you need some attraction here or somethin’. Bring people in.”

“Maybe, but it’s not every day something worth seeing comes in here. The residents of the Zone are used to the extraordinary, regardless of how ordinary it’s looked lately.”

“What about a band?”

“Huh? What band?”

“Ah… Our band!” Sung motions to the others around him. “We could… perform a show here, maybe bring in some more patrons for you. And of course, you’ll get more than a fair share of the funds.”

“Seventy-thirty, you,” Meouch says.

Roz picks up the glass she had been washing and resumes her work, ellipses consistently rotating around the visor. “...I don’t see why not. Can’t hurt. When?”

“Hmm… Two days?”

“That’s awfully soon.”

“We have our own equipment. All we need is an hour or two beforehand to set up.”

Roz inspects the now squeaky-clean glass for a minute before nodding. “Sounds good to me.”

Meouch downs the rest of his drink and slams the empty glass on the bar. “We got a deal!”

“Want a refill?”

“No, he doesn’t. We have business to take care of now.” Doctor Sung pulls Meouch off the seat by his arm, dragging him towards the door. “Thank you! We’ll see you soon!”

Lord Phobos scrambles after them, only to snag the doctor’s leg bag and pull out a handful of dollars. He returns to the bar and holds them out to Roz. _Do you accept this form of currency?_

She takes the wad from his hand and reaches under the counter, presumably to the cash drawer. “I’ve learned to accept any currency I can get. Thanks much! Stay safe out there.”

He nods in response, and he and Havve leave to catch up with the other two. It doesn’t take long, as they haven’t gotten far. Sung is walking with his hands on his hips, taking deep breaths. Meouch turns to the others with a knowing look. “He got tired.”

“Just not used to this atmosphere!” He tilts his face to the sky and takes one last long breath. “Alright. Let’s head back to the ship. We can print off some posters to promote our show.”

The other three shrug as he starts the trek back to their ship and fall in close behind. “Roz was nice,” Meouch says.

“YOU NEARLY LEFT WITHOUT PAYING HER. HOWEVER NICE SHE MAY BE, SHE WOULDN’T HAVE APPRECIATED THAT.”

“Oh… Did we? Did someone pay her?” Worry tinges Sung’s voice, and he turns around to go back to The Rack. Phobos holds a hand out to stop him and points to the bag on his thigh.

_I gave some to her before you left. I didn’t count, so I don’t know how much short you are._

“Good, good,” he says, resuming their original course. “Though I’d prefer you to count it out instead of handing over however much you can. Not everybody is honest like you, and they’ll keep whatever they can get.”

“ROZ KEPT ALL OF IT.”

“Of course. Well, she probably needed it. She said sales were down, right?”

“So if we fail to bring any sales in with the show, you can just hand her all of your money. That’s what I’m getting from this.” Meouch grins, and it takes a minute for Sung to realize he’s joking.

“We’ll see.”

The ship comes into view shortly after Doctor Sung’s vaguely-cryptic statement, and they all crowd inside. Sung takes to the computer to create promo posters for them, and the others claim the seats near the controls. They sit in silence for a moment, but it isn’t long until Meouch reaches out and flips the radio on. Static pours out of it, gathering the attention of the others.

“Thought that personal radio may try to reach out again,” he shrugs. Lord Phobos nods, and the subject isn’t pushed.

“‘The Rack,’ right? That bar?” Sung’s hand is covering his mouth as he works, muffling his words.

“Yup. Wonder how they came up with that name.”

_Fitting, somehow._

Sung hums in response, even though he didn’t see Phobos’s words. He pushes his chair away from the monitor, the poster now in full view for the others. “How’s that?”

Havve bends over the computer. “YOU WROTE THE DATE WRONG.”

“Did I?”

“IT’S IN TWO DAYS, NOT THREE.”

Sung scans back over the screen. “Oh, you’re right. Quick fix.”

“IT’S ACCEPTABLE.”

“Good enough!” He sends the poster to the printer, which makes a noise reminiscent of a zombie crawling out of its grave.

“Jesus, when was the last time you used that thing?”

“Can’t remember, so must’ve been pretty long ago.”

Whatever Meouch was going to say in reply is cut off by a yawn. The viewport has darkened, and it feels like the effects of the day have caught up with them all at once.

“We should probably...sleep in here for the night. There’s no sense in going to a hotel outside when we have our rooms here.” Sung picks up the last of the posters from the printer and sets them in a stack on the pilot’s seat. “We’ll deal with those tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

Meouch is already almost out of the cabin, heading down the hall that leads to his quarters. He throws a hand in the air in acknowledgement. “Night.”

Havve is next to leave, his footsteps echoing loudly through the ship. Phobos looks to Sung and signs “goodnight,” though they both know he’ll likely be up for a midnight stroll later. He looks around the main cabin, ensuring that the computer is now switched off and the hatch is shut. Even without going to his quarters, Sung knows he won’t be able to sleep; he’s restless, though he can’t put his finger on why. He moves the posters to the co-pilot’s chair and sits in his, opening his bag to see the damage done at The Rack. Phobos hadn’t managed to grab much of his money; they still had plenty in case they needed something here in the Zone. He shoves the cash back in the bag and zips it shut, letting his hands fall in his lap. The radio is still emitting static, and his mind wanders to the voice that brought them here.

Who was it? Are they even still here? The Zone does seem to be off-color, but it could be from its instability. Something that has to ride itself out.

Eventually, the static replaces the questions in his mind, and he dozes off.


	3. Chapter 3

The ground is shaking underneath Doctor Sung. He looks around at the destruction, the buildings falling around him, and realizes his friends aren’t at his side. The streets are empty, and he isn’t sure if everyone already evacuated or if they never had the chance to. He hears Havve Hogan’s voice, distant and incomprehensible, but there nonetheless. He runs towards it, and though he can’t see Havve, the voice grows louder as he approaches.

“DOCTOR, FOR THE LOVE OF WHATEVER GOD MAY EXIST.”

The ground rolls under him even more than it previously had, and Sung’s eye snaps open, greeted by the lights of the control panel squished under his cheek. The shaking is still prevalent, but it registers in his mind as Lord Phobos’s hand, now. He raises his head, and Phobos stops shaking him. His face is obscured by his helmet, but Sung can feel the worry radiating off of him. Commander Meouch pipes up from somewhere behind him, “You seemed tired, so we figured we should let you sleep. Got a little worried once it got this late.”

“COMMANDER SHITHEAD ACTUALLY WANTED TO SLEEP MORE. HE’S FEIGNING CONCERN.”

“Well, whatever. You were still sleeping late.”

 _Did you have a nightmare?_ Phobos moves back to stand by the other two, and Sung stretches in his chair before he spins it around to face them. Havve and Meouch’s unfazed expressions and Phobos’s slightly-less-worried-than-two-minutes-ago one stare back at him as his bones crack.

“Little one. Ship chairs don’t make a good place to sleep!” He waves his arms in dismissal. “Nothing to worry about!” A glance out the viewport tells him that it’s plenty bright outside by now, and his gaze falls on the heap of posters beside him.

“Think we should get on out and get hanging?” Meouch asks.

“No reason to wait. Place isn’t too big, right? I think we can get them all out before it gets dark. ...Er, assuming this place’s light works more or less like Earth’s sun?”

“Sure.”

Sung picks up part of the stack of posters and dumps them in Havve’s arms, who glares at him but does not further protest. Meouch and Phobos get the idea and take stacks of their own while he’s rummaging through drawers in the cabin. With a triumphant “a-ha!” Sung holds up a roll of tape and, back still turned, launches it towards the commander. It lands square on his nose before falling on the pile of posters in his arms, and he shifts them to one hand to rub the now-aching snout. “Can you _look_ before you do stupid shit, Doc?”

“Hmm? I always look.” He slams the drawer shut and grabs the remaining posters, oblivious to Meouch’s annoyance as he whirls around. “Time to go!”

They push the hatch open and step back onto the grounds of the Zone, still the unsightly scenery as the previous day. Sung notices that the ships are the same; nobody has come or gone. Despite the Zone supposedly being a hub, it’s been pretty dead since they got there. There aren’t any poles or buildings in the lot, leaving them to hang up any posters in the heart of the Zone — the lack of newcomers leads Sung to believe there wouldn’t have been much point in hanging them up there, anyways.

They stick a few up right at the entrance and at The Rack, but they hold on to most of them for the center of the Zone. As they walk, the realize there are more people out than the day before (or it could be that they’ve been there the whole time, and the boys didn’t look far enough to find them). A few reptilian beings, some very short people, some very tall, a group of ones with so many arms they’re indistinguishable from their legs — the being that was on the bench in front of the drugstore among them, possibly — a few wearing helmets or other face-concealing objects, and many robots. Despite the amount of them, nobody is really chattering or otherwise acknowledging the others; some are walking and don’t pay TWRP any mind, others are leaned against buildings and staring at the air, and the few left are standing in the streets, their gaze down at their feet.

Commander Meouch spies a particularly sturdy-looking board on the side of the road. It has various posters on it, all of which have faded beyond recognition. All the better to hang his on top of them, he decides, and approaches it and the group of five aliens seated around it. “Hey, uh, dudes, could you scoot for a hot minute? I just need to hang this up here and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

His words are met with silence, and not even a glance in his direction. He shuffles his feet, maybe in hopes the movement would further encourage them, and chuckles. “...Where are you from?”

Nothing. He shifts again. None of them have moved a muscle. Not one to give up a fight, he nudges his foot into a gap to get close enough to hang the poster. The vibrant colors that Sung chose stand out against the yellowed paper of the others, and he nods in satisfaction as he steps back. “Sorry, you gave me no other choice.”

Besides two of them sitting a hair further apart, there’s still no movement in the group. Meouch is a little unnerved as he retreats back to the others. Their poster stock has nearly completely depleted, down to an amount that they could reasonably throw in the air and leave them where they fall as a celebratory form of advertising.

Not that they would, of course.

Havve and Phobos lead the way as they group back together, ready to hang up the rest.  Sung drags behind, looking around at the people surrounding them. “They seem very… off.”

“That’s one word for it, I guess,” Meouch says with a shrug. “Fuckin’ weird could be a better description.”

Sung frowns and sticks another poster up. “Have you seen anyone that at least seemed to notice you?”

“Nope. Besides Roz and that asshole at the drugstore.”

“Hm. Yeah, I think I’d prefer just seeing Roz. Or these people…” He holds his hands out by his sides and feels his heart rate rise, and Meouch looks over just in time to catch him as he staggers, nearly falling. Hearing the stumble, Havve and Phobos hurry back beside them.

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?”

Sung shakes his head, laughing unconvincingly. “Nothing, just fell.”

“Oh, bullshit. You’re getting sick or something.” Meouch throws one of Sung’s arms around his shoulders, despite his protests.

_Should we go back to the ship?_

“No, no, the commander’s overreacting —”

“Can it, Doc. I’m not risking you passing out when we have a show coming up.” Half dragging Sung and not giving up his support, Meouch turns around and starts back for the ship. Lord Phobos takes the remaining posters from the others and stacks them on a staircase leading up to a housing building before matching his pace.

“YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO PULL MORE IGNORANT THAN NORMAL STUNTS WHEN WE HAVE THINGS TO DO. OR, SO YOU TOLD ME.” Havve trumps along beside them, ignoring Sung’s agitated rebuttals. “YOUR WORDS, NOT MINE.”

“You’ve been acting fucky anyways. I don’t care if you don’t get sick or whatever —”

_Doesn’t get sick in the normal sense, but I think he can still come down with something._

“Yeah, exactly. So you’re _going_ to _rest_.”

“Fine, okay, I probably need to. I’ll admit that.”

 _Thank you._ Times like these, Lord Phobos wishes that he could express cheekiness in his signs — but Sung seems to pick up on it regardless.

“Uh-huh, sure thing. Do you think we should stop by and see Roz?”

“Why would we? She’s got a business to run.”

“Well… true. Fine, to the Groove Station.” Sung holds a hand out for onwards, as if anyone was going in a different direction to begin with.

Phobos taps on Meouch’s shoulder as they approach another housing building. “What?”

“IS THAT NOT YOUR OLD UNIFORM?”

Meouch stops in his tracks, and Phobos points to the stairs at the base. Someone is lying on their side across them and facing away from the group. Even without seeing their face, as Havve said, their outfit is distinctive: knee high boots, gray pants tucked into them, and a beaten leather jacket reading “RECON DIV 34” across the back.

He shrugs Sung off of him and approaches them, the rest following close behind. Meouch is cautious as he walks to the other side, and he waves his hand in front of their face. His brow furrows and he looks to the others. “It’s Agent Barker. He was in my division — I mean, clearly, the jacket.”

He sits on the stairs beside him and waves his hand again, but Barker doesn’t move. “Come on, bud. ...I guess he came here after I left. Maybe he’s who we heard on the radio; he’d have to have one.”

Doctor Sung sits on the other side of him and rests his fingers on his neck. “He’s got a pulse. Conscious but not responsive?”

“Guess so. Like everyone else here.”

“I WOULD SUPPOSE OUR TIME HERE IS LIMITED IF WE DON’T WANT TO BECOME LIKE THEM.”

“No, we’re here to fix this. However long it takes, I’m staying here.” Sung stands up and offers a hand to Meouch to pull him up. “We can’t help Agent Barker right now, but maybe we can with the show. If anything, I’m glad we found him. Now there’s at least one person we can drag out to see us.”

“I guess. Let’s get back.”

They leave Barker, seeing little point in disturbing him further. Sung is walking well enough without a shoulder to lean on now, but he’s still lagging more than usual. His mind turns back to the concert in hopes to lighten the air a little.

“Anything in particular you guys want to play?” he asks.

_Open with Overture and Ladyworld again._

“Of course. Strong start, as always.”

“And some Crushin’,” Meouch says.

“Naturally, naturally.” Sung nods.

“TIME CRYSTAL IS A GIVEN.”

_And Pale Blue Dot._

“And Food Bar.”

“Of course. We’ll work them all out, uh, tomorrow. Or tonight. Something.” Sung opens the hatch to their ship and all file in.

“Not right now, I’m beat,” Meouch says and makes a beeline for his quarters. “Later dudes.”

“Eh, fair. We probably all need to sleep anyways.”

“YOU SLEPT UNBELIEVABLY LATE, DOCTOR.”

“I know, that’s why I’m staying up for now. Got some… stuff to do.” He gestures vaguely around the room.

Havve evidently doesn’t care regardless and leaves for his charging station, and Phobos signs goodnight before going to his room, too. Sung stalls for a minute until he’s sure they’re not coming back out, and once he’s satisfied, goes to the screen beside the pilot’s chair. A tap to wake it up, another to bring up the overreaching map. He zooms out of the small area of their current location — one that shows nothing on the map — to see what’s around them. His first realization is that they’re not at all in the same area they were when they entered the Zone. Meouch _did_ say that it’s constantly moving, but it’s odd to him to actually see that now.

“Throws a bit of a wrench in this idea…” he mutters and drags the map around, scanning the planets in the area. He pulls his knee to his chest and rests his chin in his hand, an attempt to get comfortable so he can focus. He swipes through the planets quickly, none of them quite matching his criteria. A fair amount of time passes, long enough for his eyes to burn and for him to grow stiff. Still, he swipes around the map, deadset on the journey. A shuffle behind him causes him to jerk his head up and around, switching the screen off as he does. Lord Phobos is standing in the doorway, sans helmet, looking a bit sheepish.

_I didn’t realize you were still awake._

“I-it’s fine. You scared me,” he laughs. “Out for a walk? Can I join you?”

_You seemed to be doing something important._

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. My own curiosity on a dumb mission.”

 _I’m sure it’s not dumb._ He walks towards the hatch and motions to Sung. _Let’s go, then._

They leave the hatch slightly ajar, something Phobos learned to do only after waking the commander with the loud clang many times. He walks around the backside of the ship, away from the entrance to the Zone. It doesn’t take long for him to realize why; it’s darker back here, away from all of the lights in the city. No wonder he didn’t bring his helmet. And, by extension, further away from the negative emotions there, much to Sung’s advantage.

Neither try to make conversation at first. Phobos has his head tilted towards the sky. It’s not quite as hazy as it was their first night here, when he wasn’t able to see anything. Between the haze, he can see a few specks in the sky, like large stars. Woven around them are colorful strands, almost like the Northern Lights back on Earth. They all keep fading in and out, slower and more prominent than a twinkle. Sung turns his attention towards them, too, and smiles in fascination. The Zone has had a lot to offer already, and he’s going to have to study it further once they settle whatever’s plaguing it.

…Speaking of such. He frowns and turns his gaze back to the ground, trying to go over everything that they’ve seen again. Phobos looks to him, his face scrunched in concern. _What is it?_

“There’s an obvious answer to… all of this, everything that’s happening here. Rather, everything that isn’t happening here. Boredom. Same thing that Agent Barker said on the radio.”

_Is there a chance that boredom is the same thing ailing you?_

“...Yeah. Yes, definitely. My species, you know, we’re very sensitive to emotions. Boredom is… a sickness, just like hate, or anger, or despair. It’s what took everyone else off in the first place.”

The words and their implications take a minute to hit. Phobos falls silent, turning back towards the sky. _I’m sorry. I didn’t know._

“No, don’t be sorry. I never told you. Or any of you. I suppose Havve has figured it out by now, since he’s been with me the longest. Not that he’d admit it to me, but he probably knows much more than he’s letting on. ...That being said, of course I want to call this boredom. It makes the most sense with everyone’s current state. However, I can’t feasibly rule out any other negativity, or something that caused said negativity.” He bites his tongue, something with admitting that out loud. “We’re barking up a ladder that we’re calling a tree.”

 _It’s all we can do for now. If the show doesn’t help them, we’ll know it_ is _a ladder. And we’ll handle that if it comes._

He shrugs. Waiting was never something Sung was very good at. He knew his body would react adversely to _any_ negative emotions, but for everyone else’s…

Lord Phobos answers the question before it can leave his mouth. He moves his hands slowly, as if he’s thinking. ... _Something’s off. I don’t feel sick, per se, but something has to be slipping through the respirator. I’m tired. Mentally, not really physically._

“Admittedly, I don’t know the effects of boredom on your species, but the fact that you’re feeling _that_ is almost enough for me. I’ve seen you dealing with despair and even hatred, Lord Phobos. And I don’t think they had that kind of toll on you. There’s something here causing boredom, and it’s my job to handle it.”

_Well, yes, but you can’t do that if you’re flooded with it, too, Doctor Sung. We need to be careful._

“Trust me, I know. I’ll handle it!” Sung grins, but Phobos doesn’t seem to be happy with his response. There’s a slightest frown on his face, and he turns back to the ship.

_We should get back inside. I’m tired._

He doesn’t protest and follows him through the hatch, doing his best to close it quietly. When he looks back up, Phobos is gone. Sung idles towards the map again and taps it on. He stares at the map for a second, sighs, and switches it back off. Another check to make sure the hatch is locked, and he retreats to his quarters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter with alcohol mentions

“Check, one, two! Check, check!” Doctor Sung says into the microphone and taps it for good measure. The sounds ring through the small building and he nods in satisfaction. His bandmates push through the door, each towing instruments.

“Going smooth here?” Commander Meouch asks, hoisting his bass and Fuckthrust onto the stage before climbing up himself.

“Smooth as silk. Those infected who have seen the posters will definitely be treated tonight.”

Lord Phobos gently sets his guitars in their stands and gives Sung an odd look. _Treated?_

“Treated with some good ol’ groove.”

“DON’T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF, DOCTOR. WE STILL HAVE TO SEE IF ANYONE WILL COME IN THE FIRST PLACE.”

“Of course they will! Have some faith, Havve.”

Roz saunters to the stage and puts her hands on her hips. “I sure put all of my faith in you four. I’m counting on y’all to bring me a crowd, alright? No drinks afterwards if you don’t.” A smiley face crosses her visor, but Sung takes it as a serious statement and kneels down to her level.

“Of course. We promised you business, and business we shall bring!”

Roz tilts her head and pats his knee. “You’re as good as your word, you know. We’ll see.”

With that, she spins on her heel and goes back behind the bar. He turns to the others, Phobos and Meouch tuning their respective instruments and Havve shifting his drum kit to just the right spot. “I’m suddenly nervous.”

“Same deal as always, bud. I’d say this is an easier crowd than most, since they’ve apparently had such shitty conditions for a while.” Meouch waves his hand without a care.

Phobos gives a smile behind his helmet. _All we have to do is have fun._

“CONSIDERING, AGAIN, THAT PEOPLE SHOW UP.” Havve hits one of the cymbals, as if to punctuate his sentence. “THAT IS AN ASSUMPTION, NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY.”

“It’s not a _far-fetched_ assumption, though,” Sung says. Havve shrugs, knowing they’ll end up talking in circles if he pushes any further. The rest of the setup goes smoothly, with Roz checking in on them every now and then — much to heighten Sung’s nerves. They have about an hour until the show starts, and Sung nudges everyone to a corner of the stage, out of Roz’s earshot.

“If the boredom here was brought by agents, we could… definitely be at risk tonight. Maybe even Roz, too, since she’s hosting us. I suppose, just… keep an eye out. We don’t want anything happening on our watch.”

_Do you actually think something will happen?_

“Probably not. They don’t like to come straight out. They’re cowards, so they attack from behind instead of head on. It’s good to be on guard in case.”

“Well, fuck them! I’m here to have fun, and they can eat my dick if they have an issue with that.” The sound of the squeaky door follows his words. Meouch cranes his head over the others and grins. “Looks like we have some visitors.”

They turn around, and sure enough, a few people are filtering into the bar — and then a few more, and then a _lot_ more. Roz looks around at all of them, her visor lighting up. “Here for the show? TWRP?”

A few nods and vague, mumbled affirmations. Enough for her. “Well then, hand over your admission fee! They’re waitin’ for you.”

She spies the boys watching and mimes blowing a kiss to them, already thrilled with the turnout. As the crowd filters towards the stage, their chatter increases, and soon enough a buzz has filled the room. It raises the level of excitement already present, for the band, for the people entering the bar, and for Roz. Sung waits until the stream of entrances has died down and then taps the mic. “Hey, hey there! Glad to see you’ve joined us on this fine… Tuesday… night! We’re gonna play a few jams for you —”

“Let’s go all fuckin’ out!” Meouch chimes in, getting a low cheer from the crowd.  

“All fuckin’ out is a better way of phrasing it, for sure.” Sung looks to his bandmates with a grin, and on Havve’s mark, they kick into the music.

It doesn’t take long at all for the crowd to get into it, bobbing to the beat, some even dancing. The building may be small, but it’s big enough to hold their groove and cheer. Roz gets into the music, too, dancing behind the bar, her skirt billowing out with each spin she takes.

As quickly as they got into it, though, the rug is pulled out. Phobos’s amp cuts out during a solo — in fact, _all_ of the power cuts out. Several confused shouts rise from the audience, and the four on stage exchange bewildered looks. Sung jerks his head towards the back door, the light from his prismatic core bouncing erratically around the stage. Meouch picks up his meaning.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, let’s see if something is fucking up _outside_!” The emphasis on his words carries a clear message for the other three, and they dart off the stage in the dark and make a beeline for the back exit. The few people standing to the side of the stage part for them, though it’s probably due to Havve’s mildly terrifying lit eyes instead of their sense of purpose. Phobos’s knees bash against the bar as they run behind it, adding to the chaos buzzing around the scene. Seven strides from the door. Six. Almost comically, Roz beats them there.

“Holy cow, thank you guys! This is already a great night, and it’s all thanks to you!” Exclamation marks are revolving around her visor. She grabs the sides of her dress and spins fantastically, playing a chime similar to Japanquest. Unwilling to straight up push her out of the way, they try to peer around her into the darkness leaking through the window. A glimmer flashes through it, though it could be from Roz. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Ah, no, no worries. Thanks for having us — fuck, power?” Sung’s words tumble out haphazardly, quickly losing his cool.

“WE NEED TO REGAIN POWER IF WE WANT TO CONTINUE THE SHOW FOR YOU.”

“Right, sorry about that!” She turns and opens the door for them. “We’ve got some faulty electricity out here, anyways.”

The four rush out, and they catch the disappearing silhouettes of four people running away from The Rack. They’re moving far too quickly for them to have a chance of catching up, and Sung shouts incoherently after them. Roz sticks her head back out. “Everything alright?”

They’re long gone by now. Sung shakes his head. “Yes, sorry. Actually, I… think we have something we need to attend to. I think we need to cut the show off here. I’m sorry.”

“Aw, don’t be sorry! You boys have already helped me. Can I help you pack back up?”

“PLEASE DO.”

Roz takes things into her own hands and steps around them to enable the power. They go back inside and climb onto the stage, though the crowd doesn’t seem to be too concerned; some of them have already idled over to the bar to wait on Roz, chatting amongst themselves. Doctor Sung steps up to the mic. “Sorry, folks, we’re having some technical difficulties. Show’s going to have to come to an early close, but we’ll make it up to you soon!”

There’s a general ripple of displeasure through the crowd, but most of them flock to the bar to join the others. Once each instrument is back in its respective case and safe to go, they stop to give another thanks to Roz.

“It was a business deal, no need to thank me. Oh, right, here’s your cut.” She hands them a bag from under the bar, assumedly holding their cash. “Want a drink before you head out?”

_We really need to get going. Thank you, though._

She holds a hand to her head in a salute. “Stay safe, boys!”

Sung waits until they’re a good distance from The Rack before going ballistic.

“The power wouldn’t just shut off like that, and nobody would be running away from there if they weren’t responsible! The rest of the Zone is painfully boring, quite literally! They wouldn’t — they have to be working for boredom. Not only working for it, but bringing it here! To this already unstable pocket!” He talks with his arms as he goes, waving them around fiercely.

“Doc, slow down, nobody’s arguing with you —”

“We have to stop them, Commander! Our final and worst fear has been confirmed! It’s up to me —” Sung falters in his words and staggers, and Havve tosses him over his shoulder before he can fall.

“YOU’RE NOT STOPPING SHIT IN THIS STATE. GET A GRIP, DOCTOR.”

“Up to _you_? We’re in this together. You clearly need our help for this, so don’t go playing the fuckin’ hero,” Meouch growls, and Sung falls silent.

_You keep saying “you,” but we’re all fighting against it. Please don’t act otherwise. It’s foolish to do so._

He doesn’t respond, but that in itself shows that he knows Phobos is right. He doesn’t protest against Havve toting him like a sack of potatoes to the ship, silently fuming the whole way there. Meouch opens the door for them, and Sung gets tossed into his chair. “WE NEED TO COME UP WITH A PLAN TO STOP THE AGENTS.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i pulled lord phobos's multi location ability from the music video for the hit, where he's shown duplicating his image!

Lord Phobos is pulled out of his doze by Havve’s shutdown noise. The cabin is almost completely dark, barely illuminated by the emergency lights near the hatch and Doc Sung’s core. Its owner is sprawled over the pilot’s seat, clearly exhausted from the excitement. In the seat beside him is Commander Meouch, also asleep, curled around one of the arms of the chair. His travel helmet is close beside him, not even arm’s length away. He thought it may come in handy if the boredom were to worsen, in case it begins to take a toll on his wellbeing. Havve is seated off to the side, his dull eyes indicating sleep mode.

Phobos stands and rolls his stiff shoulders. He walks to the hatch and does his best to open it quietly for his nighttime walk. He pulls it just enough to slip outside and rest back against the frame, not shutting it fully to avoid the noise waking the others. He takes his usual route, the one around the back of the ship.

In his relief to edge further away from the Zone, he fails to notice the four figures clad in gray approaching the ship.

They test the hatch, and much to their delight, it comes right open. Even more to their delight, the three inside do not wake upon their entrance. With their surprise advantage in mind, the best course is to forcibly take them to their own ship — out of their way, but still in their hold. The leading agent of boredom moves for Sung, near silent on his feet. Sung wakes immediately on his touch, but the events of the concert and the air of the Zone have left him weak; his struggle is futile and the agent restrains him. He shouts in frustration and keeps pushing back, and the clamor wakes Meouch in a panic. He whirls towards them in a flurry of claws, confused and snarling, but two of the agents remaining by the hatch rush him and attempt to pin his arms down. The remaining agent notices Havve immobile in the corner and grabs him by the neck, dumping him onto the ground. What he thought would be an easy job is quickly derailed when Havve’s startup noise rings through the shouts of the others. He jumps back when his eyes switch on, and the bright LEDs pierce straight through the agent’s bravery. Sung is still yelling, trying to kick his opponent away from him. Meouch’s low growling reverberates through the ship, but the two are circling him, further confusing his still half-asleep mind. He tries to dart towards one of them, but they duck out of the way, and he slams into Sung. Havve is advancing towards the agent who tried to drag him off, who’s so scared that all he has to do is stare at him.

The noise must’ve been loud enough to be heard outside. In a second, the cabin is doused in a pale light. Everyone pauses. Looks at the door. Phobos’s figure is illuminated, and he doesn’t move, processing the scene in front of him. He raises one arm into the air, and as he brings it back down, dozens of images of him appear in the ship. One beside the agent holding Sung, drawn back to strike. Three surrounding Meouch, hiding him from view. One in between Havve and the remaining agent. Others, scattered all around the room.

With a grin, Sung takes advantage of the multilocation. He throws the disorientated agent off of him and steps away, his arms raised at his chest. “I don’t have to think very hard as to who you people are. You work for boredom, no? Unhappy with our little stunt?”

“ _Our_ stunt?” Meouch snarls and moves out of the cover of the refracted Phobi, who waver and disappear. “ _They’re_ the ones who cut the power!”

“You have no business here. Boredom has already won this area of the multiverse. Give it up,” the first agent says. “It entered our territories, so it’s our right to claim it.”

Sung holds a finger up. “It crosses many territories, and yet, you don’t see anyone else trying to ‘claim’ it. This place is already on the verge of self-destruction at any given moment. Why must you come here and fuck it up further? What do you have to _gain_?”

“It crossed our boundaries! We have the right to fight against what threatens us. If it’s already unstable, why do you even care?”

“Because it’s a _refuge_ ,” Meouch says, exasperated. “People take cover here —”

“Not to mention, it’s already well out of your territory. I checked the map last night, and it has moved far away. So, again, what do you have to gain?”

“If it did it once, it can do it again,” he says bluntly.

“Well, fuck this, then!” Meouch tackles the nearest agent and goes down in a burst of blows. Sung retrieves his nunchucks and advances on the others, Havve close by his side. Phobos moves the remaining refractions to stand beside them — the agents don’t know that they can’t attack on his behalf, and they sure give the appearance of a tough frontline. The agents back up, much less confident than they were when they had the advantage. Phobos moves out of the hatchway, and they’re pushed outside, where Meouch lunges at another agent. Havve grabs the scruff of the neck of the one who woke him and raises him high in the air, letting him dangle before slamming him into the ground. The tables have turned.

The commotion is even louder than it was in the ship, and, slowly, it draws a crowd. People peer out of their ships and some step outside, staying a safe distance away from the brawl. After watching for a short while, a reptilian being throws themselves at the agents, too, and starts a domino effect of others launching themselves into the battle. People from inside the Zone come to spectate, join in, and cheer on, all drawn outside by the action. The crowd is louder than ever, and once he gets a good look at the size of it, the leading agent swears, scrambles to his feet, and takes off through them towards his ship. They jeer at him, swinging and taunting as he runs through. The remaining three quickly realize that their leader is gone and hurry after him. They trip and stumble through the crowd, and Meouch shouts after them, “Bunch’a cowards!”

The ship rises, pushing off the people that were banging on it, and in a flash it’s high in the sky, towards the wormhole that acts as the door. The inhabitants of the Zone cheer — actually cheer, a shift in their demeanor immediately evident. The boredom is already lifting. Sung smiles widely as he watches the ship disappear; they haven’t seen the last of boredom and its carriers, he’s sure, but the Zone is safe.

Two phrases become clear in the crowd, chanting over and over. “TWRP! TWRP! Groove Crusaders! TWRP! Groove Crusaders!”

They look around in awe, and Meouch elbows Sung. “Is that — they mean us?”

“I — I guess? Groove Crusaders, it’s got a nice ring to it!”

“YOUR HEAD IS SWELLING, DOCTOR.”

Sung sends Havve a pointed look, but before he can respond, a stout robot approaches. They bend their head forward with a click. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Silas, the repair worker of the Zone. You could’ve left this place to ruin, but you took care of a problem that wasn’t even yours. Thank you for that, all of you.”

“There’s no need to thank us. It’s… _our_ job. Protect anyone we can from boredom.” Doctor Sung throws his arms around the others shoulders.

“Well, I’m thanking you. We want to honor you four, somehow…”

“There’s already plenty of posters hanging up here of us. For an outdated show, but the thought is still there,” Meouch says.

Silas clicks again. “Posters fade. ...Statues, however, don’t. I’d like to construct statues in your likeness to go here. That way, nobody forgets who guarded the Zone. Not even those dastardly beings.”

They share a glance. Havve is the first to speak up.

“I’D QUITE LIKE AN ENTIRE REGION RECOGNIZING MY GREATNESS.”

“Then it’s settled! The next time you return to the Zone, you’ll be our guests of honor.”

Lord Phobos is shaking in silent laughter, and Sung nudges him. “Well, thank you! We look forward to returning. For now, we need to get back to our home, since our work here is done.”

“Of course! Safe travels, Groove Crusaders.” Silas retreats, and they see him slip around the crowd and head back towards the heart — to get started on blueprints of the statues, no doubt. They maneuver through the crowd to get back to their ship, and as they open the hatch, color surges forward. The dull gray sand under their feet turns a bright red, and the sky loses all of its haziness, revealing an inky black overhead. The crowd cheers one last time, a final sendoff for the boys.

They each wave before securing the ship. Sung takes his pilot’s seat, and the others strap in behind him. The ship rises smoothly into the air, the inhabitants of the Zone still waving underneath them. Lord Phobos peers out of the viewport next to him and waves again, even if they can’t see him. Sung leans his head against his seat as they approach the wormhole, and a laugh bubbles out of his throat.

“Groove Crusaders… That’s a hell of a name.”


End file.
